Marigolds in Winter
by animefan106
Summary: It was winter in Oslo, Norway and Lukas Bondevik wanted to play outside in the snow. His parents forbade him to go out though because his health was not in great shape. They gave him a bouquet of marigolds as a present to keep him from going outside. Despite his parent's warnings, Lukas went out to only to find himself lost in darkness as the marigolds grew brighter. One-shot


_Disclaimer: Hetalia and characters do not belong to me or at least not all of them._

_This is a one-shot that has nothing to do with the main storyline of the anime/manga. This was actually for a class that wanted a narrative about anything so I thought I typed this up. Just to say, there are only two characters in here that being Norway and Iceland. They are also OOC._

_The story is sad and marigolds have nothing to do with the countries. I was just looking up flowers and then it came to the subject of flower language and yeah... It might be kind of angsty. I don't really know. Depends on how you guys look at it._

_Hope you guys enjoy. Also R&R please~_

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Snow covered the land for as far as the eye of Lukas Bondevik could see from his window. Lukas lived in Oslo, Norway where fish were plenty and so was the soft, white snow he saw out of the invisible barrier that separated his seven-year-old dream from the enclosure that trapped him from his happiness. Mr. and Mrs. Bondevik stepped into the room that was only lighted from the dim rays of the sun that January evening. "Why can't I go outside and play in the snow with the other kids?" asked the blonde haired child, not looking away from the endless trees and ground covered in the shaved form of ice. His mother sat next to him on the polished windowsill and looked endearingly at him with crystal blue eyes. She answered, "You are sick Lukas. If you go outside in the cold, your condition will get worse." The mother hugged Lukas to express that she cared for his health. "I want to have fun outside too! The other kids seem to have fun making funny-looking snowmen and fat snow angels!" cried Lukas. His father chuckled then pulled from behind his back, a bouquet of golden flowers. "Why not have fun writing or drawing these marigolds?" Lukas father asked with a grin. The rich colors of yellow and orange mesmerized Lukas for a long minute. He ran to the flowers and touched them gently with his small, delicate fingers. He then grabbed the case and set it on his small blue table where he wrote stories and drew pictures that he would color. His parents told him that they had to leave the house to do some errands after their son perfected the placement of the vase and explained to him once more why he could not go out into the outside world just yet.

Lukas listened for the loud rumble of the garage door closing to signal him when he could run to his closet. When the unpleasant sound came, he dashed to where his winter clothes were hung and started to dress into the thick and warm clothing. After receiving the marigolds from his parents, the small blonde boy decided he would go outside to find a perfect story for his marigolds despite his parents' warning. He actually wanted to play in the snow but thought it would be a sufficient excuse to say that he wanted to think of an idea for a story. Lukas hurried down the stairs and placed his large, brown boots on his rather large feet. When he left the house, the marigolds in his room became brighter in color and stood out in his dark and lonely room. It frustrated Lukas when he first stepped into the deep snow. The Norwegian boy fell several times into the snow but the light and soft powder that touched his face tickled him and made him laugh. He had never touched the substance before now and soon enough he was glad he did feel the snow. Still near his house, he was rolling in the snow allowing it to make his face feel cold then wet as it melted on his face. Lukas made a family of tiny snowmen with their noses and eyes made out of acorns and their arms made out of little twigs from the woods near his house. He made several snow angels that were skinny as a light pole and fat as a pine tree's trunk. Lukas lost track of time; his mind filled with his enjoyment of playing. A squirrel from the forest saw the little boy playing in the snow feeling that it should be cautious around humans. It scampered across the powdered ground to the boy's snowmen and took the acorns off of their faces. "Wait! Those are my acorns!" cried Lukas as he stumbled across the yard and into the woods after the squirrel. The marigolds in the Norwegian's room seemed to have grown larger as the boy ran into the woods and the sky grew darker.

A blizzard came storming down on Oslo, Norway. Lukas' parents had returned home when the snow started to take over the people's lives. "Lukas, we are home!" yelled Mrs. Bondevik from down the stairway. There was no reply from her small son who would usually run down the stairs to greet her. She walked up to Lukas' room hoping to find him taking a nap. To her horror, Lukas was not in his sleeping quarters. She ran to all the other rooms on the second floor looking for Lukas. "Honey! Lukas is not anywhere up here!" Mrs. Bondevik explained to her husband. Shock filled Mr. Bondevik's eyes and he dashed madly around the house in search for his son. "No…" he whispered to himself. Meanwhile, Lukas was lost and surrounded by tall, gloomy trees. The snow beneath his feet kept on growing, covering his legs. The petite and pale boy started to cough and felt the freezing pain of the cold wind rushing into his skin. Lukas remembered before the storm, the magic that the snow had to make him happy but now a feeling of pain and loneliness took over his body. "Mommy… Daddy… I had a lot of fun in the snow. Next time… I want to play… with you," whispered Lukas. He comforted himself, saying that his parents would find him and scold him for disobeying them. They would hug him outside of the woods in their backyard giving him warmth and love. His imagination flowed with hopes of telling stories and drinking hot cocoa on cold evenings with his parents. Lukas wheezed and coughed then wheezed and coughed again. It was difficult for him to breathe so he sat against a tree with the dark sky towering above him which kept on making the movements of the wind and snow harsher and sharper. Lukas' eyes felt droopy with exhaustion. He curled himself up into a ball-like shape to try and keep himself warm. In his room, the marigolds had reached their peak of beauty by showing off to the darkness its delicate, bright-colored petals of different shades of orange and yellow like glistening gold in the shining light of the sun. As it bloomed, Lukas' eyes finally closed into an eternal slumber.

The blizzard continued from that night up until the next afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Bondevik were trapped in their home for the night because the blizzard piled snow in front of their front door and garage. There was no way for them to fall asleep after they had searched the house finding that their son was missing. Mr. Bondevik paced back and forth in his dimly lit living paced back and forth in his dimly lit living room with a small fire crackling in the fire place. They had hoped that the marigolds would distract Lukas until they came back to tell him the news that would excite him. Mrs. Bondevik was going to have another baby boy which was confirmed the day she and Mr. Bondevik had to go on their 'errand'. They had called the police about their missing child but there was no chance for the police to look in the snowy storm. When the blizzard finally stopped, the police quickly went to work to find the Bondeviks' boy. Only ten feet into the woods from where the backyard ended and the tree-filled land started, was Lukas' corpse covered in snow. His heart did not beat and his chest did not rise or fall. Mrs. Bondevik sobbed into her husband's arm, unable to walk for the next week. The polive asked Mr. Bondevik what happened and what he might have thought had happened. He explained to the officer how Lukas was always excited and curious about snow and how he and his wife did not let him go outside because he was a sickly boy. He then explained the events of the day before but when he mentioned giving marigolds to his son, the officer held up his hand to stop what he was about to say. "Do you know what marigolds mean?" asked the officer. "What do you mean by what marigolds mean?" asked Mr. Bondevik. "In flower language, marigolds mean sorrow and grief. It may seem silly but I think that when you gave those flowers to your son, it meant that he was going to die," explained the officer. The ideas did sound crazy but Lukas' father could not help but feel that it was his fault. He thought that his son would like the flowers of gold because they were different from the native plants of Norway and they seemed like a spark of a new interest or hobby, not a blessing of death. Mr. Bondevik vowed to himself not to separate his unborn son from the world like he did with Lukas who he had barely spent time with.

Eight months had passed until Mrs. Bondevik gave birth to her son, Emil. As Emil grew, his parents made sure he had a fun and once-in-a-life-time experience, especially during the winter. Mr. and Mrs. Bondevik stayed clear of marigolds ever since Lukas' death. The parents also became happier as they learned more about their second son when they spent more quality time with each other. One day as Mrs. Bondevik went shopping with Emil, he pointed out to a bouquet of golden flowers. "Look Mommy! Golden flowers over there." Mrs. Bondeik turned her head to where Emil was pointing. "Those flowers bring sadness, Emil. Why don't we get some colorful daisies over there," explained the Norwegian mother. "Okay !" replied the small boy whose head was covered with silversih-blonde hair and violet eyes that were oblivious to his mother's worried voice. They walked into the flower shop but Mrs. Bondevik stared at the marigolds, her eyes then becoming sad. She shook off the thought and focused on making sure that Emil would get the best out of life, unlike the time she could not provide her first son.


End file.
